Before Spanish missionaries in the 18th century intruded, five indigenous tribes lived and fought for the 10,000 square miles that is today Lincoln County, Nevada. Late midcentury one of those tribes made the mistake of showing missionaries a vein of silver along a canyon wall. What was, instead of what could have been, became a theme.
Mines that left too soon, railroads that came too late, those that stayed – too few, leaving an invisible demography of escapees. One of the first Westerner farms was started by brothers who were escaped slaves. Lincoln County also provided effective sanctuary for Howard Hughs and Warren Jeffs. They were just down the road from each other. Bringham Young gets credit for the idea. He needed a place to hide when the federal government built a fort with cannons aimed at his church.
Still in hiding is the water; plentiful yet deep and as elusive as was once silver, both still covered in an endless expanse of warm loneliness. The last vestiges of heritage and hope remain, innately elusive, conflicted, beautiful, and thankfully alone.